wisdom

One of my friends posted the following on his facebook page.  I just wanted to add it here so I can go back to look at it again from time to time.

One day a farmer's donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. Finally, he decided the animal was old, and the well needed to be covered up anyway; it just wasn't worth it to retrieve the donkey. He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They all grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. At first, the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone's amazement he quieted down. A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well. He was astonished at what he saw. With each shovel of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up. As the farmer's neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and happily trotted off! MORAL : Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The trick to getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. Each of our troubles is a steppingstone. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up. Remember the five simple rules to be happy: 1. Free your heart from hatred - Forgive. 2. Free your mind from worries - Most never happens. 3. Live simply and appreciate what you have. 4. Give more. 5. Expect less from people but more from yourself. 

4 days of Christmas 2013

Christmas actually began early morning of December 23 at about five minutes after midnight that morning.  I picked up Axel and Jeremy at Jeremy's apartment, and they came here to stay the night.
Around 8:30 the following morning, Anne knocked on the door to their room telling them they should be awake to see if Santa had come to visit them. Within a few moments, they were in the kitchen where I was cooking breakfast of bacon and pancakes. Anne led them to the dining room which is where the Christmas tree is.  We had an early Christmas with them that morning.  By the time I was finished cooking breakfast, our grandson, Jonathan, had arrived to stay the day with us.
Since Jeremy had to be at work by two pm at the mall, Axel and I dropped him off there and went back to his apartment.  I kinda helped but mostly "supervised" as Axel cleaned the apt since Jeremy's mom was on her way here to take them home with her for Christmas in Midlands near Charlotte. Jonathan was here at home with Anne for the rest of the day.

Early Christmas Eve morning I was out of bed and busy in the kitchen beginning to prepare the Christmas Eve dinner to be held here that evening with our son Jon, and his children, Rose and Jonathan.  Anne's Aunt Doris would also be here for dinner.

At the appointed time Jon arrived with Rose and Jonathan with the car filled with gifts for everyone. Within a few minutes Doris had arrived with more food to add to our dinner and another car filled with more gifts. After the Christmas feast, we celebrated Christmas and watched the movie White Christmas.  For sure, Christmas Eve evening was as storybook success.

First thing Christmas morning, Anne and I were at Jon's house to see what Santa had brought the kids. Oddly enough this was the first time we had been with the grandkids on Christmas morning to inspect the loot from Santa and this was Rose's 17th Christmas.. Wow.. finally.. Santa was very good to the kids this year, as he always is.

By mid morning Anne, Doris and I were on our way to Charlotte to visit Anne's cousin, Dianne and her husband Mike. We were there for lunch during which time Mike's sister Barbara dropped by with a chocolate pie and pecan pie she had made for them. Later Dianne's brother, Rodney, came by for a visit

Around 5 pm we left Dianne's home to drive to Midlands to pick up Axel and Jeremy.  With the car filled with gifts and left over foods, the five of us were our way to McAdenville, NC also knows  as Christmastown.  The entire town is decorated for Christmas.  Unfortunately, after waiting for way too long on the side of the Interstate at the exit into McAdenville, we decided the wait would be too long and the Christmas lights would just have to wait.  We  dropped Axel and Jeremy off at Jeremy's around 9:30.  When Anne and I dropped Doris off at her house we stayed for a short visit then we went home.  Later I went back to Greenville to pick  up Axel, and he was here for Christmas night.

The following morning the three of us, Anne, Axel, and I began the tasks of undecorating our house from Christmas.  After lunch I took Axel back to Greenville.

This Christmas did not follow our traditonal schedule, but looking back it seems like a stroy book Christmas.  Everything was as perfect as possible.  This Christmas will be remembered as one of the
 best ones, thanks to the love of family and friends.

Christmas Fun.

In an earlier blog I confessed to being crazy and expounded on the merits thereof. Let me give you a few examples as they relate to Christmas.

One year I purchased a box of the cheapest Christmas cards I could find. They were small with  short general verse and an old time looking picture.  It was very obvious they were something an old person with a limited fixed income would buy.

I carefully wrote a brief but personal note inside each one to the recipient would know that I knew them well. Being right handed, I wrote with my left hand to create a shakey and unstable hand writing; and signed each card with love, Fred and Lillian.  No, I have no clue who Fred and Lillian are either. We carefully selected just the right people from our friends and family card list and allowed Fred and Lillian cards to go to each of them.  Of course we did not put any return address on the envelope nor did we use a last name to the signature.

Later when in the company of those lucky folks who had received Christmas greetings from Fred and Lillian we would discretely bring  up the subject of Christmas cards and sit quietly waiting for the subject of Fred and Lillian  to come up.  Without fail folks would tell of receiving the card from what must have been an old couple with no return address and only with an Upstate South Carolina postmark. We did receive one phone call from a friend out of state asking if we knew a Fred and Lillian from upstate SC.  Of course, we plead ignorance to knowing that lovely old man and his wife.  He finally concluded he must have gone to church with them sometimes in the past in North Carolina but just could not place who they are.

Another year Anne and I made the decision  to limit the amount we would spend on gifts to each other to $10. We could not spend more than $10 total for each other.  I went shopping at the Dixie Gem shop.  I purchases a 2 kt cubic zirconia stone cut to resemble a beautiful diamond and had it mounded on a sterling silver mount and placed on a chain borrowed from Anne's jewelry box. Total cost $10.00

A few days later, I received a phone call from a friend. In the course of the conversation he asked me what I was getting Anne for Christmas. I did not lie. I simply said a 2kt pendant. He did not ask what stone and I did not tell him.  For years he would always ask what I would be getting Anne for any special event, Christmas, Valentine day, or anything.  He would always buy the same thing for his wife except on a bigger scale.  If I bought my wife a purse, he would have to buy his wife a purse and shoes to match.

Nothing more was said until about six months later he mentioned that he had gotten his bank note paid off. He confessed he had borrowed $5000 to buy his wife a diamond pendant necklace.  He seemed a bit embarassed that he could not afford a 2kt ring like I had bought but said he did get a good deal on one just over 1kt for $5000.  From that time forward, he never ever asked me what I was buying Anne for any special event.  Of course, I never told him that I had only spent $10 and that he had bought a far more expensive gift.  Actually, it was none of his business.

This year Anne and I agreed to restrict our buying for each other to items we would find at either a thrift store or the Dollar Tree. It will be interesting to see what comes of that.

With less than a week remaining before Christmas, I will take this opportunity to wish all a very Merry Christmas.  Remember is is not the size or the value of a gift that is important.  What is important is that it reflect the gift of Christmas love. Perhaps the most valuable gift could be your time well spent with someone or a hug to someone who needs one or even a smile or a simple Christmas wish.

Christmas wish

It rained most of the day today. It was cold. Being outside today was miserable. Anyway, I had places to go and things to do so I had no choice but to brave the weather and just get it done.  A few  miles from home I realized I was not wearing my glasses.  The poor visibility of the weather paired with not having my glasses made drive a bit more interesting.  Lesson learned: Prescription sun glasses work well while driving in the rain. 

One of the places I had to go today was to check in on our family business, Studio A.  So far this month we are  operating a strong healthy loss.  December sales have fallen through the floor due to the holiday. 

Over the past week, four friends have complained of sore throat, coughs, etc.  Luckily Anne and I have not been zapped with any ailment yet. 

I received a text from someone needing assistance with their rent due to car repair bills and also stating that their church was assisting them with Christmas expenses for their children. Luckily, I was able to work out something for him.  

Also received an email from our son now living in China that he has been unsuccessfully trying to contact us. I responded via email and got a response that was not necessarily bad news but could have been much better. 

Out of the gloom and doom of this rainy Saturday, a bright light of joy and peace came to totally change the mood of the day in the best possible way.I had another email from a young man who is part of the acquired family of which I have spoken of in previous blogs.  His email was short, and directly to the point.  He lives about a thousand miles to the north of us and he is planning to visit his family for the holidays who lives about a thousand miles from us in the opposite direction. He simply used the magic of love. He sincerely expressed the love he has for his biological family as well as for me.  He went on to say that he would be seeking peace of mind and of heart and that he knows he will find it in the love of his family through the holidays.  What really was the turning point of my day was his wish for me and those whom I love to find the same peace now and forever. 

The best Christmas gifts are not always wrapped in pretty packages but are those that come from the heart through the wishes of friends and family whom we love and who love us  Sharing the love of Christmas is the greatest Christmas gift of all.   I am happy and well blessed because I am a wealthy man in that respect. 

Why?"

"Why am I here?"
"If there is a God, why did he put me here?"
"Why do I have do deal with all these bad things in my life?
"Is there a reason or a purpose?"
"How do I know what to do with my life?"

The car trip was short. I was to simply drop off someone at their point of destination and be on my way.  As we neared the end of our brief trip, my companion who had been rather quiet up until now began asking questions such as the ones here.  We are never prepared with an answer for someone else on these matters when we are not always sure that we have found the answers for ourselves. 

After stumbling around for some moments grasping for something intelligent to say, I realized that I was beginning to sound like a bumbling idiot, even to myself as a spouted out all the often used and never understood thoughts that could provide some sensible intelligent response that would sound good, even if it could not be understood. 

After a few moments, I realized that all I could do at the moment was to tell my own story and how I came to know my purpose for being here.  What gives me direction and meaning to the things I do which are not often understood by anyone else. 

I am almost sixty-seven years old, and it was not until someone more than forty years my junior asked me about his life, did I realize the answer for myself.  It had taken me sixty-seven years to find my answer and he wanted to know his answer now.  Impossible. So, I attempted to explain this to him.  In time, only when the time is right, will he find the answer. He must be patient and wait and keep looking, and when he needs to know, he will know, 

A few days later while watching The Sound of Music on television, Maria posed the same basic question to the Mother Superior at the abbey.  She answered it so aptly in song.

Climb every mountain,

Ford every stream,

Follow every rainbow,

Till you find your dream.

A dream that will need

All the love you can give, 

Every day of your life

For as long as you live.

Often after the opportunity has passed do we realize what we should have said or what we should have done in any given situation.  I know now that I should have put more emphasis that on while being patient and waiting for an answer to the question, one must dedicate themselves to the search because it is only in finding the answer that is right for yourself can you feel complete and useful as a human being here on earth. 

As to my personal "why", I will share this with you.  My life, my being here, was an accident.  My birth, even my conception was as unplanned as any person's could have been.  There could have been no purpose or no reason for me to be here.  I was simply an accident waiting to live out my life and die and be only a memory.  As he asked his question I remembered that early in my adult life I had concluded that I had been wrong.  I was no accident.  I was here for a purpose, and all I needed to do was to find that purpose. It has been only recently that I have realized that I had been living  my purpose all along. 

Early in life when I had believed myself to have been an accident or creation, and I my attitude had changed to cause me to believe there must be a purpose, I found that in order to prove my worthiness, to prove make my life worthy of living, to justify my being born, I must do whatever I could in order to help other people in whatever opportunity would present it
self.  If I am to be here, then it must be for a reason...a good reason. 

Along the way, throughout the years, I have encountered many people who needed what I had to give them, if only in words of encouragement or trying to present a positive attitude or trying to get someone to have faith in themselves as I had to do.  It was only when  my friend asked me his question did I realize this for myself. My need to reach out to others is a bit selfish in a way because I have that need to be needed.  Only by being needed can I justify living.  Truthfully, my friend, I need you as much as you need me....maybe more. 

It has been a few weeks since I wrote this blog, but at a church service tonight that featured a combination of blue grass music and "stained-glass" more classical music the following hymn brought me back here tonight.

Further Along
Tempted and tried, we oft made to wonder
Why it should be thus all the day long;
While there are others living about us,
Never molested, though in the wrong.

"Faithful til death," saith our loving Master;
Short is our time to labor and wait; 
Then will our toiling seem to be nothing,
When we shall pass the heavenly gate.

Soon we will see our dear, loving Savior,
Hear the last trumpet sound through the sky;
Then we will meet those gone on before us, 
Then we shall know and understand why.

(REFRAIN)  Further along we'll know more about it, 
Further along we'll understand why;
Cheer up,  my brothers, live in the sunshine. 
We'll understand it all by and by.

Axel

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. We will be having a traditional Thanksgiving meal, but with a twist. It is also a birthday dinner for a special person.  The following is a letter to him for his birthday. 

Hey Axel,
So you are celebrating or should I say tolerating your 25th birthday now. You came into my life, kinda by accident in late August or early September of 2011.  It was not long until I realized you were a "keeper", a friend who would be around for a long long time and not just for a season and not just for a single reason.  You became family!

Life has not always been easy for you, having been born in Spain to Mexican parents and migrating to the United States from Mexico as a young child.  Your uphill climb began when you entered kindergarten unable to speak English with teachers that spoke no Spanish. The challenges kept coming, but Axel, you have always managed to find a way to successfully meet these challenges or to find a way to cope with them.  That makes you a winner.

You appear to be a fun loving care-free young man, but as one who has gotten to know you better, I see that you are a warm loving person who is very sensitive to the needs and feelings of others. You have an inner-strength which gives you the ability to face your own unique challenges. Beneath your outward display of confidence sometimes bordering on cockiness, you have a sincere humility which adds to your your inner beauty.  If I had to choose one word to best describe you, it would be 'Courage'. You are one of the most courageous men I have ever known.


We have spent thousands of hours together.  You have gone with Anne and me on road trips into four states, to movies, to restaurants, on shopping trips, you and I have shared thousands of hours of television and general conversation. We have worked together; we have laughed together; and we have even cried together. You and I have had our share of arguements and fights too. We know each other as well as anyone could.  Anne and I have met some of your family and you have shared many of your friends with us.  You is a real asset to us with Studio A as well as around the house.

Anne and I are blessed that you have made your home with us for almost two years. We respect you.  We admire you. We appreciate you.  We love you.  You are and have always been very sensitive and attentive to our needs here at home and on the road. You are, in every sense of the word, a gentleman, always assisting Anne both at home and on the road. Our relationship goes beyond mere friendship.  Anne has become your AnneMa.  I have become your Grandpa.  Even Anne's aunt Doris is often "Aunt Doris".  We are proud and happy that you are a part of our family.  Both your inner and outward beauty make you a blessing to everyone who really knows you.

We are really thankful to have you as a major part of our lives. May God bless and keep you on this birthday and throughout your life.

Love and Best Wishes,
Lynn (Gramps)

The Loss of Innocence, November 11

November 22nd fell on a Friday in 1963. Somehow I remembered it as being on a Thursday, but then it was 50 years ago and memory is not what it may have been at one time.  Anyway, the day of the week is not that important.

It was my first class after lunch, Mrs. Whitlow's American History Class.  By Georgia Law every eleventh grader in the state had to take American History. As I recall Mrs. Whitlow was a rather strict but fair teacher. She had a way of making history interesting as well as informative. That particular afternoon we were doing a study on Abraham Lincoln and just about to get into the details of his assassination when Eddie Hart, a student from another class opened the classroom door. I can recall he was wearing a brown and tan plaid shirt.  Strange that I thought it was Thursday, but I remember the shirt as well as his name and I could easily recognize him today if he has not changed his appearance in the past fifty years. 

I even remember his words, "Mrs. Whitlow, the President has been shot!"

"Eddie, that is nothing to joke about," she responded as she was about to start to lecture him on the seriousness of government in general before she realized he was not teasing.

"I am serious, he has been shot", he said.  

She went into the hall for a moment leaving her class in a state of shocking silence.  Within moments she returned and motioned for us to follow her.  The entire student body crowded into the "tv room" which was a large basement room that had once served as the cafeteria in the 1930s when the school was first constructed. We all watched the one television in silence as the newsmen relayed the story of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy.

My initial response was that of disbelief.  I kept waiting on them to announce that it was all a mistake and he was still in surgery and would recover.  It was only when they announced that his body was being removed from the hospital that the reality of the situation was felt. 

For the remainder of the day and into the evening and all day the next day we never left the television in the living room of the federal housing project apartment where I lived with my mom and her brother, my Uncle Guy.  By we, I refer to my mom, my cousin Terry, and my friend Garnett.  Terry, Garnett, and I actually talked of taking an overnight trip to Washington but again reality set in as we realized it would take money we did not have to make such a trip. 

On Sunday, I was with my Uncle Les and his son, my cousin Billy as we made the short ride from my mom's place to visit my cousin Charlene and her husband Ed and their son Ricky.  When we arrived at their house the news was giving the account and showing film of Jack Ruby's assassination of Lee Harvey Oswald.  I really wished I had seen that event on television.  I felt Uncle Les, Billy, and I were probably the only three Americans not to see it.

I recall vividly the details of the funeral the following day, the procession with the riderless horse, the body of the President in the flag draped coffin, the long procession of foreign diplomats and state leaders who followed behind the family as they took that long sorrowful walk.  I recall the salute given to his father as his body passed Little John John.  I was particularly impressed with the poise and dignity shown by the first lady.  She maintained her composure and completed her duties to perfection to earn the love and respect of a hurting nation and a grieving world.

Truthfully, I felt as if we had lost the person who was to bring our nation to a position never seen before in world politics.  I had complete confidence in Kennedy's leadership.  The establishment of the Peace Corps and the emphasis placed on the Space Race with the Russians were the two things I most remember.  As for civil rights, his heart was in the right place, but because of a lack of knowledge and understanding of the full situation, he was never able to make the progress he could have possibly made if he had lived to complete another term of office. His leadership in the Cold War and the Bay of Pigs Incident are most impressive.  

Looking back a few years to the 1960 election, it was the first Presidential election I could remember. I had written to the Democratic headquarters and secured bumper stickers and campaign buttons.  I displayed the bumper stickers proudly on both the front and rear of  my mom's 1953 Mercury. While her political views were in total harmony with mine, she was a little hesitant to display the campaign material on her car.  Afterall, it was the conservative south and we were pushing for the election of a liberal Democrat President.  She was not ashamed of her conviction nor her liberal beliefs but for her safety.  There was some deep hatred of Kennedy in the south, much of it from him being Catholic and we had never had a Catholic President before in our history.  Hatred is must often associated with ignorance and misinformation.  A grandmother of one of my friends voted against Kennedy because she was told that a Catholic President would force us to destroy our Bibles.  She, her grandson, my mom, and I watched the election results and discussed the politics at play.  By the  end of the evening she was happy that Kennedy had won, though I think she still had her doubts. 

A couple of days ago I was talking with a friend from Florida who relayed an interesting observation made by his mom who is near my age.  She had told him that the assassination of President Kennedy was the beginning of a change in American History.  Up until that time, the US was growing and progressing in basically every possible way, but since that day, we have seen things progressively get worse, year by year.  In her words, "we lost our innocence" which is leading to our decline.  I have had the chance to run this idea past a few folks today, and everyone I have spoken to has completely agreed. 

The integrity and character of a nation are no more than the total integrity and character of the individuals who make up that nation.  It is just that simple. President Kennedy said it best, "Ask not what my country can do for me, but ask what I can do for my country".  It is only when each one of us answers that question and accepts that challenge will this nation be back on track to becoming what it could and should become.  It is not only the responsibility of our leaders but that of each of us as well.

What makes the family work

Over the past few weeks, I have written several blogs concerning our concept of family.  I am using the word "our" rather than "my" in referring to this topic.  I have been exceptionally blessed  with having my wife, Anne, by my side. Anything previously said about the family concept reflects her feelings as well as  mine.  Life for us has been a joint venture yet has allowed each of us to maintain our own individual identity as we combined to form a union or joint identity as the core of the family, both biological and acquired family. 

A few years ago we were in a discussion with our friend Howard who is a confirmed bachelor. He had been best man at our wedding over 40 years ago.  We were talking about all the friends from high school and college who had been divorced one or two times, maybe more.  We realized we are one of the few couples who are with their original partner.  He asked us why or what has made us stay together.  Anne quickly answered his question, "we started out as friends and throughout all the years we have remained friends."  We have not allowed our friendship to drift apart, but through open communication have allowed it to change as necessary to make it all work out.  We do not always agree, but we do always listen; and we talk it out. Sometimes we compromise, and other times one of us gives in completely; but the emphasis is always on finding a solution to make things work. 

We have two biological sons,  Allen, the oldest, and Jon who is five years younger.  Both are adults. Both have been married and now divorced. Both have made us grandparents. Allen has a son Shane who is a senior and honor student in a high school in Portland, OR.  Jon has two children, Rosemary who is a senior at the Governor's School, an honors school for designated gifted students in the humanities and arts. Her brother, Jonathan, is in first grade, and has already established himself by being recognized as one of the top students in his grade excelling in reading. I must commend both Allen and Jon for their excellent parenting skills with their children.  I am very proud of them for this as well as proud of the grandchildren for their successes. 

Allen has been a world traveler. This began when he was a student at the University of South Carolina and had the opportunity to study at Oxford University in Oxford England.  He has traveled back to England and other European countries.  He has traveled and  lived throughout parts of Asia.  He taught at a university in South Korea and is currently employed as a teacher in Shanghai. He made two trips to Sri Lanka to help rebuild areas after the destruction made by the Tusamni. He made these trips at his own expense.  He met with the assistant to the Prime minister there to help in planning to rebuild schools. He tells some fascinating stories of on hands work in rebuild one specific school and of helping individual students and families there. 

Jon has been more the home body concentrating on the development and progress of his children. His efforts are evident in the results of both Jonathan and Rosemary.  He has been successful in business both as owing his own business and working in key positions in other companies. Most recently he has been instrumental in creating a business locally which focuses on tourism and entertainment. 

All this sounds wonderful and as if we have been the perfect family. Overall, I would say we have been successful as a family but far from perfection. One thing for sure, Anne and I were always a team, though our sons may not have seen it that way.  We always had the same goals and objectives and worked to see them carried through.

I would be amiss if I did not refer to our partnership as it relates to our acquired family as well.  That, too has been a joint venture for us both.  Again we are generally in agreement, but always willing to listen to each other and make whatever adjustments necessary to make it work. Out of respect for their privacy, I will not talk about them specifically. 

If we were to have a written mission statement for having created this "second" family, it would be found in second chapter of Matthew.  "I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink,  I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me.  I was in prison and you came to visit  me." I  will not quote more of it but the message is clear.  

While I have seen both Allen and Jon use this scripture reference in their own lives in working with people, unfortunately, they do not agree with the the way Anne and I have used it as a foundation for helping those of our  acquired family.  There is no concern that others may take advantage of us. Our sons realize we are too smart to allow that to happen beyond where we are willing to go.  Allen said it clearly when he told me that I could call it "jealousy".  Jon's rejection is based on more personal ideas, yet unfounded. 

Anne and I share the same dream, the same wish, or desire, that both Allen and Jon will come to realize they have nothing to fear for themselves or for their children in the choices that Anne and I have made toward helping other people, and that they would accept the members of our acquired family as a positive addition to our lives and even to theirs as well. Though we have tried not to let their attitudes interfere with what we do, it has definitely had some impact which has limited our efforts. We continue to pray that they will outgrow their suspicions and jealousies and eventually accept what is to be. 

Finding one word to answer the question that titles this entry, What makes a family work, is difficult, but perhaps words like understanding, accepting, compromise, listening, compassion, trust, communication, motivation,  determination, and the list could go on and on; but perhaps the most important word would be love.

Worst Lunch Ever

This was first written in October of 2011 just over two years ago.  The details of the event so  closely follow the theme of my last blogs that I decided to add it here as a more permanent documentation than that of a document only saved on an old computer. 

A few weeks ago I met a young Hispanic man.  Over the course of a few days we continued  communication and have actually become good friends even though it would appear we have nothing in common and he is young to be my grandson.

Today, he helped me move some heavy furniture and in return I thought the least I could do would be to buy his lunch at one of our local more popular restaurants. My country fried steak tasted as if had been left over from last week.  The gravy was cold.  The creamed potatoes had a good taste only if one likes iced potatoes. But these are not the reasons for this being one of the worst lunches ever.

Upon entering the establishment he commented, "This is awkward. I don't feel comfortable here."  One quick look around the place and it was easy to see why.  some of the patrons, mostly the more elderly ones, had stopped their eating and were looking at us as if we had escaped some circus freak show.  I would assume from their stares that they had never seen a Hispanic person eat in the same restaurant as them before. As we were taking our seats, my friend made reference to being the only person there who did not appear to be a white Anglo-Saxon.  True there were  no other Latino, Black, or Asian customers present.

Our server, who appeared to be in her mid sixties, was prompt and matter of fact in her manner but stopped just short of being rude in taking our order.  There was a  notice of the absence of any small talk which  had always been present with the staff when I ate there with my wife and other friends. There was not even a hint of a smile.  After an extremely long wait our food was delivered. It would be more accurate to say that our food was dropped off at our table.  She brought a dish with ketchup, honey mustard, and BBQ sauce for his chicken and explained briefly in a condescending tone the use of each condiment  as if he had never been exposed to them before. She spoke in a loud slow voice as if speaking to someone who was either deaf or unable to understand the English language. There was absolutely no follow up to refill our iced tea glasses or to see if we needed any other service or wanted to order any additional food.

By the conclusion of the meal, I was beginning to feel as if maybe we were from a different planet or solar system.  My friend finished his meal and excused himself to wait outside while I hastily gulped down my last few bites and paid the bill to make a fast exit.  It was all too obvious that neither we nor our business was welcome there.

One would think that we have advanced beyond the days of racial and ethnic discrimination and prejudice, but it appears to still be alive and well, and it still thrives off ignorance and suspicion.  Lesson learned:  I know where not to go eat.

Follow up:  It has been two years since that incident happened.  Neither he, my wife, nor I have been back there to eat.  He has become a very good friend to both my wife and I.  For almost two years, he has made his home with us.  We have gotten to know his family and many of his friends. We have accepted them into our lives, and many of them have accepted us into theirs as well.  Soon after meeting him, his grandmother died in Central America.  He began referring my wife and me as his grandparents, and some of his friends recognize us as such.  He is a vital part of our acquired family that I have spoken of in previous blogs. Love, acceptance and respect are not determined by race, color, age, or ethnic background.  We are all God's children.

The bigger family

If Adam and Eve were white,

And if evolution does not exist,

Where do black people come from?

The above question was posted on Facebook by a friend of a friend who shared it with a friend who shared it with me.  Yeah! You do not need to school me on the Biblical story of the events of surrounding the Tower of Babel which some scholars think would give some ill thought out answer to the question.  

There are two points here.  The first is that the question serves as an example of the ignorance of many members of our society.  The second point is that all people regardless of race, or ethnic background, or religion, or sexual preference, or socio-economic status, or nationality, or whatever label one may choose to use are all children of God.  By God, I refer to the God of the Christian faith but it would equally apply to any diety of any so called religious faith. 

In my previous blog, I talked extensively about my family, both biological and acquired by choice.  Both of our sons have had friends of all races and of many religions. They were never  taught to be judgmental based on such factors or to show predjudice toward those who are different in any way.  Of our acquired family, Anne and I have welcomed, Asians, blacks, whites, and Latinos.  Just to make the point, I do know Hispanics are of European descent and technically of the white race.  Latinos are the off-spring generations resulting from the migration of the Hispanic to South and Central America and blending with the native American Indian population. Though it is not always correct, most folks consider Latino and Hispanic terms to be synonomous, though that may not always be true.

My oldest son was required to write an essay on someone who had influenced his live.  I was honored that he chose me.  In the essay he commented that I was lucky to have been brought up in a home that taught me to be open-minded and accepting of those people different from me.  As a child, we had a big cotton field bordering our back yard.  As I mentioned previously, I spent many cotton seasons in the fields along with black families picking cotton. I began my teaching career the first year of full federally mandated immigration in the public schools.  We had no problems in our school.  As previously mentioned, of all awards and honors I have received the one I value most is the "Diversity in the Workplace Award" from Ford Motor Credit Company. 

I am about the most open-minded, accepting, non-judgmental, non-predjudiced person you will ever know.  But I will confess there is one group of folks for which I have absolutely no respect and no toleration.  That group of folks are the narrow-minded, judgmental,  hypocritical, ignorant people who believe they were created better than any other group.  Most of these wave the American flag with one hand while they carry their Bible under the other arm. They never realize that they are as far from American and as far from Christianity as one can possibly be with their condemnation of anyone who does not believe exactly as they do. This statement is not intended to judge anyone, but only to state an observation. 

With that thought, I will sign out for today. 

May the God you worship bless you in accordance with His will. 

Good night. 

What is a family?

Just as beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so is the definition of a family in the minds of the family members. Usually, one thinks of family consisting of blood relatives in the traditional sense. Some sociologist simply define a family as a unit of individuals who love and care for one another in the same sense as one would be considered as a member of a tribe or clan with no mention of blood relation.

The traditional concept of family as mom, dad, son, and daughter has become almost a myth in today's society.  Somewhere between 40 and  50 percent of marriages end in divorce. Increasingly large numbers of people opt out of the marriage vows to simply live together and rear their family as a healthy, happy family group. Looking at exceptions to the traditional family concept we must include the many children living with a step-mom or a step-dad or both.  Many become single parents due to the death of a spouse. Let's consider court ordered foster homes as well.

Both of our sons had friends while in middle and high school who felt as close to Anne and me as if we were their parents.  Some even called us mom and dad.  Our sons were close to some of their friends' parents and would refer to them as mom and dad also.  We were, in no way jealous of the other parents, but in fact happy that someone would be willing to be there for emotional, spiritual, or even financial support for our kids.

God richly blessed Anne and me with two biological sons and three biological grandchildren.  In many ways we fit the definition of the "traditional family"  We were lucky.  I will note that each of our sons have been married and are now divorced.  Each of the former daughters-in-law has remarried so our grandchildren all have step-fathers in their lives. Fortunately the grandchildren appear to be happy and healthy in this situation and they all have maintained a great relationship with their fathers.

Whether you call it fate, or luck, or karma, or a blessing, or a gift from God, Anne and I would call it an opportunity.  I suppose the correct sociological concept would be to label us as surrogate parents or grandparents to some young adults who came into our lives. Anne is often called "mom" or  "AnneMa" (which is the name two of our biological children call her), or Anne.  In addition to being Lynn, I have been called "Gramps" and  "Dad".  We are never "Mr or Mrs Hall".  At the risk of appearing vain or conceited, I will say that we are honored that someone would value us enough to adopt us in these roles.  It is also a humbling experience.  It gives us a sense of responsibility and additional meaning to our lives.

As much as I would love to write about these honorary children and grand kids, I will respect their privacy and offer a word of thanks to them. It is awesome to receive an email from one in college telling me of recent accomplishments in school and successes in personal achievement and telling me the part I had in helping to bring about this success.  It is really good to meet someone unemployed and almost homeless and later go into their work place and be introduced to their coworkers as "mom" and "dad".   It feels so good to be with someone at the mall and be introduced as their "Gramps" and to hear their friends refer to Anne as "AnneMa".  A sense of fulfillment is realized to have these surrogate kids bring their friends into our home as guests to meet us, or for dinner because it has become their home as well. Some days we have not known how many would be here for lunch or dinner or exactly who would be here over night. One morning this summer I found myself cooking breakfast for eight of us.  It all works out though, because most of the housework and yard work is completed for us.

When I had surgery earlier this year, our son was at the hospital with me and waiting with Anne while I was in surgery. He brought us home and followed up to be sure we did not need anything else at the time.  Later that day our adopted grandson came with one of his friends.  The friend returned to his home and work the next day but the grandson stayed with us.  He rarely left our presence and was sure we had everything done here that needed to be done.  He worked with Anne to take really good care of  me. You know, I am not sure if I even told him, "Thank you".. oops..  

In so many ways it is like it was when our biological sons were home and coming in with their friends, some of whom called Anne "mom" and me "dad".  The house is filled with laughter and conversation, of life and love again.

Sure, we are retired and in the autumn of our lives but we ain't dead yet.  We have a lot of living and a lot of loving to do yet. Each day we pray a prayer of Thanksgiving for this opportunity to extend the family concept beyond its traditional bounds and a prayer asking for strength and wisdom to meet the challenges that come with it.  Life is good!!!!

The Haunting, Part 2

Before beginning this narrative tale, I must advise that the events relayed here are 100% true as they were told to  me or as I experienced them.  I am taking the libetrty to change names of  some of the people with the exception of my immediate family. 

In the autumn of 1990 Anne, my wife, and I sold our home in the upscale Huntignton area of Easley and bought an older home near downtown.  The realtor had described it to us as an estate, and truely it was just that. The home we purchased was constructed somewhere betweeen 1920 and 1922.  We purchased the home from the heirs of its origional owners.  The house was constructed as a spec house by a local construction company and it was two years after its construction that the owners took up residence there.  It is believed that during the two year period, the house was rental property managed by the builders. That cannot be verified.  It was also used as rental property for a brief time after the death of the origional owners. I understand that the wife of the origional owner did die inside the home. I do not know of any other person who died there, though there are possibilites since they had rented out part of the origional house at times and also had constructed two additional structures on the property. 

The origional home was built in the arts and crafts style of archetecture popular at the time. Over the years the large front porch had been enclosed into a sunroom, a Florida room was added off that addition.  An additional bath was added along with enlarging the master bedroom and the addition of a breakfast room.  It appeares that these renovatons were probably made in the 1950s,

In 1938, the owner constructed a garage apartment at the rear of the house.  Underneath the structure  was room to park three cars, though one space was under the front prorch.  The purpose of the structure was to provide home for the owner's brother, his wife and two daughters who had been living upstairs in the main house which had been completed after the orgional construction of the house and made into an apartment accessable only through the stairway inside the owners residence part of the home. 

In 1947 another house was constructed at the rear of the main house.  This was a three bedroom two story home featuring hardwood floors, a Florida room, more than adequate closet space for a home of that time, a formal living room, and dining room. The house was built to serve as a home for the owner's only daughter and  her husband. I understand it was a wedding gift for the newly weds and was located in her parents' back yard.  

At some earlier unknown point in time, the owner and his brother dug out a basement under the main house.  It was a full stand up basement with cement outer walls and a cement floor. It was made accessable from both inside and outside the house.  According to the story, there was a substantial amount of rock under the house and the brothers had to use explosivdes to blast away to open space for the basement.  The dirt and busted rock was carried out by wheel barrow.  This basement covered almost the entire area under the main house.  Their daughter had used it as a dance studio at one time, and story has it that she held many parties in the basement during her earlier years.  The area featrued a large stone fireplace which had become inoperable by the time we bought the house. 

Although built at different times, the three homes all made of wooden frame construction and white in color fit together well to make an attracrtive compound.  Both the garage apartment and the daughter's former home were rented when we purchased the property.  We continued to use these as rental property for the sixteen years that we made our home there. During the time we were there we made extensive renovations to all three homes.  With the addition of property next door we made the estate into a show place.    We were able to do much entertaining there, and our guests always seemed to have a great time unaware of other events taking place on the property. 

For the sake of clearifiation, I will refer to the home we occupied as the main house.  The garage apartment will be referred to as the carriage house.  The home constructed for their daugher will be known as the guest house, though we never used it for guests.

THE CARRIAGE HOUSE 

Shortly after we moved in, the young  lady who live in the carriage house came down to our house to tell us she had called the police out the night before due to a noise she had heard under the house.  By under the house, she was referring to the first garage bay.  The garage area was open with no doors so anyone or anything could easily walk off the street into that area.  The garage opening was only inches from the sidewalk  on the street. She showed us what she, her boyfriend, and the police had found.  There was s small basin of very dirty water, some items of doll clothing, and the horrible stink of human urine.  An unlocked stroage area off this garage bay had shelving full of boxex of old clothes and household items left there by some previous occupants.  The following weekend I completely cleaned out this area and secured it with both a padlock and nailed the door closed. 

The next occupant of the carriage house was our friend Alex.  He moved into the house with his cocker spaniel and made it his home for several years.  Just after moving in, I visited him one evening.  I had not been home but an hour or so when he called.

"What were you doing under my house a minute ago"? he asked. "I know you were there in the garage. I heard you cough.  I know you are getting over a cold and you were coughing when you were here and I just heard you again!"

"I was not in your garage!" I replied.  "Ask Anne. I have been here with her watching television since I got home over an hour ago".

"Someone was"  he responded, "and I was sure it was you.  If you were, it is ok, I  just wondered why you would have been there"

"Get your gun and flashlight and go out your front door.  I will get my flashlight and go out my front door and we will meet outside the garage and go inside.  Don't shoot me" I cautioned him!

We met and searched the area thoroughly.  Nothing was to be found. Everything looked normal. All was quiet.    No sooner than I got home and my phone rang.  "I just heard it again, but i know it is not you; but someone just coughed.  I heard them clearly."  We decided to just let it go and not investigate any further that night. 

A few months later he was going on a businiess trip. He had asked me to come up daily and check on his dog and to check his computer for messages for  his home based  business.  As we were standing there inside his house talking, he asked me to check something in the bathroom.  Just below the mirror and above the sink were a few drops of a dark brown thick liquid on the wall.

"Every day, I clean this off, and the next day it is back" he said.

I realized there were no pipes or electrical wires behind that immediate section of the wall.  I could offer him no possible solution or answer. 

For the week he was gone, I would clean the wall each day, and the following day the substance would be back.  It was years later that I learned that there was a possibility of a chemical reaction between the old paint on the wall and the new paint I had added which could have been the cause of the mysterious substance. That was never confirmed. 

The next residents there were a young couple.  They were really great renters, always paying rent on time and kept the place really clean and neat.  All was going well, or so I thought.  One day while I was cutting grass, I saw the wife come down to our house and ring the doorbell. Anne answered the door and in a few moment the two ladies were waking toward me with a stoic look of concern just short of fear or panic. 

She was direct and to the point.  I listened and noded understanding but did not interupt as she told her story, " Is my house haunted? She asked.  "The window unit air conditioning will change temperature settings by itself.  I can watch the knob as it turns from off to on to high or medium or low. Nobody will be touching it, and the knobs turn by themselves. There are times, we hear people under the house in the garage.  We hear them talk but can not understand them. We hear them cough.  I have seen him. I have seen a young man standing at the window of our bedroom in front of the airconditioning unit.. He will fade out and disappear when we walk into the room.. He is young, slim, and has long brown hair."

"Are you afraid or do you feel threatened?" I asked.

She did not answer my question directly but went on to relay the story that she woke up one night to see her husband standing at the foot of the bed next to the baby's bed.  She asked what he was doing.  "I am praying that it does not hurt the baby."  was his response.  She went on to say that she got out of bed and started to go to stand beside him when she felt something on her back. I felt like someone put the palm of their hand on the small of her back and literally pushed her across the room.

Within a few days, they had moved out.

With the place vacanat, I thought it would be good to give it some attention.  Although they had left it in really great condition, I decided a coat of paint for the trim in the kitchen and bath would make it look better for the next occupant. After work one night I went up to the carrage house with a quart can of white trim paint, a paint brush and any other necessary items to get the job done.  With me were my cell phone and the cordless phone from our house in the event anyone called in response to my ad to rent the place. 

I was about midway through painting the door facing between the kitchen and a bedroom when I decided to take a bathroom break.. I put my paint brush on top of the can and went on my break.  When I came back a couple of minutes later, my paint can and the brush were NOT there. I retraced my steps to the bathroom in case I had taken it there. I looked over the entire house. Nothing.. No brush!! No paint can!!  Gone!! 

The cordless phone from our kitchen rang.  "Hello  (pause)  Hello,  Hello"

"Hello, You called?" Anne said into my ear.

"No", I responded, "hold on a minute".  I checked my cell phone and it said, 'IN USE"  My cell phone had called our home phone number totally of its own doing.

I closed up the house and went home for the night.

The next evening I took Anne and her Aunt Doris with me to look for the missing paint can.  We never found it.  While we were there, the cordless phone from our kitchen rang.  I answered it, but nobody was there.  Again I looked at my cell phone and once again it had called our  house phone all by itself.

While standing there discussing the weird phone behavior and the missing paint can there errupted from somewhere beneath the house the most God-Awful deep gutteral screem of some wild creature.  It only lasted for a split second.   I looked at Doris and she was as white as any new snowfall.  Both she and I had the look of pure terror on our faces.  Anne was standing there with us but she did not hear anything.    We locked up and went home. 

The following Friday night, my friend Jim and I decided to camp out in the empty house to see if we heard or saw anything unusual.  We stayed in the room with the air conditioning unit that had operated itself.   Early on Saturday morning Jim was preparing to leave to go dear hunting and I was gatering up our sleeping gear. 

"Shhh" he said.  All was quiet. While we had been talking he thought he had heard a cough from under the house in the garage but was unsure.   After he left and I was gettng the remainder of our things together I was lost in my thoughts about the whole situatoion and realized that I had just heard a cough...or thought I did. I was not sure.

A year or so later, a young lady was moving from the house because she was getting married and moving in with her new husband.  When she came by to give me her key, I could not resist the temptaton to ask her, " Can  I ask you something? "

"You want to know if anything strange ever happened while I was living there" she said.  Then she went on to tell of waking up from an afternoon nap one day when she sensed someone had sat on the bed with her.  She had opened her eyes and saw the print of someone sitting on her bed beside her, but nobody was there.   She went on to say that often she would be in the shower and the shower curtain would open a few inches by itself and while she felt as if she was being watched, she never felt fearful.  She beleved that whatever was there was a frendly force and no threat to her or anyone.. 

THE GUEST HOUSE

While driving home from Jim's home in Anderson late one night.  My phone rang.  It was Davey who lived in the guest house with his fiance Laura.  He asked me to come up there when I got home. He wanted to talk with me.  He went on to say he had called Anne, and she knew I was coming by there. Arriving home, I went directly to the guest house. Laura was not there.  Davey invited me in and offered me a drink.  Over the next twohours we finished off  a bottle of Canadian Mist mixed with Coca Cola.  

"How much do you know about this house?" he asked almost as soon as I entered the front door.  I gave him the history of when the house was built and of the people it was built for and that was about all I knew.  He went on to ask if anyone had died there. I knew of no one.

He relayed his story to me.  It was a Friday night.  Laura was working at the Occassionally Blues Club, and upscale dinner club downtown Greenville that Anne and I attended regularly.  Davey  had been working that Friday on a survery crew and was exhausted.  Normally he would wait up until Laura  got home, but that night he had decided to retire early. He went into the kitchen and a prepared a cup of ice water in a Wedgie's Pizza cup.  He applied chap stick, took a sip of water and went upstairs to bed. He has placed the cup on the table beside the bed. The table was actually an end table and not a regular bedside table so it was somewhat lower than it normally would have been. 

He slept soundly and did not even know when Laura came in and went to bed.

Just before noon on Saturday, he awoke to the sound of Killer, their big black cat screeming.  He got his eyes open to see the cat already in the air with back arched and hair standing on end.  The cat hit the floor running and was down the steps before Davey realized what was happening.

Then he saw it.  The cup of water he has placed on the table beside the bed was suspended in air about four feet over the bed. It was just hoovering there; then it fell spilling water onto the bed.
The water woke Laura.

Davey asked me if anyone living there before them had told me of any similar events in that house.  I told him that he was the first one to tell me of anything there. I did tell him about the things that had taken place in the Carriage house up until that time. 

He went on to say that neither he nor Laura had felt threatened. They felt as if it was someone pulling a joke on them. He had recently had an uncle to die in New York and thought maybe his uncle was paying them a vist before his spirit departed.   They continued to live there for some time and never experienced any more situations like this.

No other pesons living there while we owned the place ever reported any odd happenings taking place in that house.

THE MAIN HOUSE.

Jim had requested the loan of my pickup truck while his truck was being repaired from an accident he was involved in.  I kept the extra truck key in the front left corner of the wide center drawer of my desk.  I went to my desk to get the keys for him.  It were  not there.  Thinking nothing of it I gave him the key off my key ring with instructions to be careful and not loose the only truck key I had.   Then I emptied everything out of the desk drawer, threw away things which were no longer useful; and organized the remainder in an orderly manner.

A couple of days later, I was home alone.  I was about to leave for work, but before leaving I checked the drawer one more time knowing the keys were not possibly there.  Something in the back of my mind was telling me that if I asked whoever had taken the keys to return them that they would be returned.  Speaking to an empty room, I said something like, "OK, whoever took my keys, please return them to me.  I have loaned my truck to someone as a favor and if they loose the key, I will have the problem of havng one made".  I left and went on to work.

Returning home around ten pm that evening I went to the study thinking of the silly thing I had done of talking to the empty room and asking invisible spirits to return my truck key. I  opend the desk drawer.  In the exact spot where they should have been the day before, the front left corner of the wide center desk drawer, was the truck key. It was exactly where it should have been all along. 

It was approaching the Christmas season a year of so later.  We always decorate  elaborately for the Holiday season.   Our decorations were kept stored in the basement on a table in the corner  near the bottom of the stairway. It was a well lit area and easy to locate whatever we may need for the year.  We do not always use the exact same thing from year to year.

The previous weekend, we had decorated the house for Christmas with the exception of the Christmas tree.  Earlier that week, I had gone out to buy a tree.  It was cut, mounted in the stand  in the sun room, and waiting for decoration.  Anne was preparing dinner that evening. I went to the basement to bring up the decorations for the tree.  As I brought up box after box of Christmas ornaments for the tree I was aware that i was NOT seeing the box of lights for the tree.  Just a few days before l had seen them on the table with everything else but somehow they were not there now.

I called upstairs to Anne in the  kitchen asking if she had seen the Christmas Tree Lights.  She answered that they were on the table in the basement.  She had seen them there only a day or so earlier.  When I told her I could not find them, she stopped cooking and came down to help me look.  Together we looked over the table, under the table, all around the table and  around the entire basement. No lights for the tree were to be found.

Dinner was almost ready so we ate dinner, and I planned to go to Walmart or Lowe's to buy new lights for the tree.  Before leaving to make my purchase, we checked the basement one more time with no luck. 

As we reached the top of the basement steps and stepped into the hallway, I  reopened the basement door and simply announced, "It is Chistmas and I need the lights for the tree so I will  not have the expense of buying more.  Whoever has them, please put them back.  I will be checking in about ten minutes to be sure they are there."  I turned out the basement light and closed the door.

"You have lost your mind?, " Anne said to me. 

"Maybe so, but it worked for the truck key so maybe it will work now.  The lights are lost, so I may as well loose my mind too".  

After a few seconds,  I opened the basement door, turned on the light and started down the stairs to the basement.  Anne was following me.   Midway down the steps we stopped.  There on top of the table, and on top of the unused Christmas items was the box of Christmas tree lights that were simply not there only minutes or seconds before.

I have no logical or even illogical explaination for the missing truck key or the Christmas lights or for their return.  I am still mystified over those incidences. 

THE EXORCISM

Our next door neighbor there was a wonderful Christian lady who hosts weekly Bible study groups for a group of ladies.  My wife attneded the study groups.  Anne had relayed some of these incidences from all three houses to her.  She advised Anne that daily she goes around her house and yard and simply offers a prayer to God to cleanse their home of any evil spirits.  That is all that is necessary she said.

Sometime later while Anne was at the Bible Study and I was home alone and having nothing else to do, I followed the neigbor's advise.  I walked through our house saying a hurried prayer as she has instructed, asking God to cleanse our home of any evil spirits  I continued to pray the same prayer as I walked outside and made a complete circle of the property.  It was swift and simple.  As I neared the opening to the garage area of the carriage house, there was a full grown male adult robin standing on the sidewalk at the door opening.  I stopped and bent over and spoke to the bird. I do not recall what I said but I held  my hand down to it and he jumped up onto the index finger of my right hand.  I kept wanting someone, anyone to ride by or drive by and see the wild bird on my finger, but it was a private moment for just the two of us, the bird and me.  He turned away, stood on my finger for at least a full minute then flew away into the trees. 

We remained on the property for at least five more years before leaving there in 2006.  There were never any more unexplained experiences, no more missing objects to mysteriously return.  All was at peace. 


AFTER THE FACT

As we were moving out of the property I went over late one afternoon for a load of things from the basement.  Once inside the house I was overcome by a sense of uneasy dread.  I felt the  need to leave, and to leave quickly.  I began to quickly fill the truck with items to be moved.  As I started back into the house I realized I could not go back in that place then. I was actually afraid.  At no time in the past had either Anne or I felt any sense of fear.  Neither had anyone else expressed fear, but exactly the opposite.  The only other sign of fear had been with the young couple with the newborn baby in the Carriage House.

A few days later I retruned with a young man to help me move out the remainder of our things.  It only took a few minutes.  While we were there a neighbor stopped by to visit for a few minutes. When the neighbor left and the young man and I were in my truck he said to me,  "If we ever come back over here, I will not go in that house alone.  While you were outside talking and I was inside alone, I beame afraid.  Nothing scares  me but i felt afraid for my life. Please do not ever ask me to go in there again alone."

I have been able to do a minimal amount of follow up with both owners and renters who lived in the main house after we left.  None of them had seen or heard or experienced anything like we did. I would seriously question the limits of my imagination or even my sanity if it was not for so many other people who did not even know each other having had unexplained experiences there. 

If the opportunity presented itself, would I live there again?  With no doubt or no hesitation and with no reservation, the answer is clearly, "NO" !

As a  matter of record, we have neither seen, heard, or in any way experienced any unsusual or unexplained situatioions in our present home.  

The Hauntings... part 1

In all sincerity and honesty, there may not be a part 2 or part 3 or any more parts to today's blog. This is NOT the blog I had indended to do. It is not the one I told a friend I was to do. Maybe I am over-reacting a little bit but lets look at if for a moment.... that is if this blog can be completed.

In my sophomore year at Emmanuel College I decided to do a research paper on superstition.  One afternoon I went to the library and began getting sources together and making notes.  As dinner time approached I deciced to take a break, go home, eat, and return to the liabrary.  During my absence from the liabrary, dinner was delayed, I had a flat tire, the lights on my car failed to work, and the car almost would not start.  Upon my return to the library later that evening one of the first sources I found stated a warning.  If anyone tries to learn of superstition or the work of the devil, then the devil will do all in his power to keep that person from learning his ways.   Were my delays only coincidence or were they the work of the devil? You tell me.

At about the same time in my life I developed an interest in the Ouija board.  In the process of explaining it to a friend of my mom's I decided to demonstrate it to her.  She and I sat down at the board with a third person present. We began aksing questions about the third person. These questions were things which we would have no way of knowing ourselves.   The board answeres every question we asked about the third person present.  Neither the other person on the board nor I could have had any factual informaton that we were asking, yet we got near 100% correcrt answers.

Shortly after that I became engaged to the lady to whom I have been married for over forty years. While we were dating she told me of a dream she had regarding her grandfather.  In the dream she saw his casket coming out of the ground in the front yard of her grandmother's home.  He was burried in a local cemetery. A coworker who had some knowledge of the occult advised us that the grandfather was trying to communicate with her and advised us to visit her grandfather's grave at night.   We went to the cemetery where her grandfather was burried.  We went to the section of the cemetery where he was burried.. He was burried to the side of the only pine tree in that secrtion of the cemetery.  When we got there, we found the tree, but there was NO grave anywhere near the tree. We walked around and looked at every toombstone in the area, and could not locate his grave.. She kept telling me that he was burried right there and would point to a spot of grass near the tree, but no grave was there.. The next day, in the light of day, we returned to the cemetery and found his grave in the exact spot she had pointed to the night before where no grave had been. 

A few night later she and I took out the Ouija Board and started clowning around with it.  We got a few vague responses but noting of signifiance that could prove or disprove its effectiveness until it spelled out very clearly, "Get married do not wait".  Laughngly we both accused each other of manipulating the board.   I asked who was sending the message to us and the board replied, "Bill" neiter of us knew anyone named Bill.  Suddenly she jumped up and shouted, "Bill. I know Bill"  He had been a member of a church she had attened a few years earlier in another state. He was a young man who had died unexpectedly from complications from having his appendix removed.

The Ouija Board disappeared. Neiter of us would admit to throwing it away. You tell me what happened to it.

In 1983 we built a new home.  We were its first occupants.  I do not recall if it was a Saturday or Sunday afternoon she and I were in the great room of the house.  Almost at the same time we asked each other, "did you see that"?  We both had seen an elderly thin lady enter the front door of our home and move silently and quickly down the hall into the bedroom area. We both described her as wearing a white gown or dress with small pink or purple flowers and with long brown hair. By the time we had focused on her appearance, she had disappeared right before our eyes in the hallway of our new home. We never saw here again.   A few months later a new road was cut in our neighborhood for the building of  more houses in the subdivision.   People began to report sightings of an old lady at night in the woods just off this new road in an area about a five minute walk from our home.   We looked there many times but never saw her again.

From there, we moved into an older estate make up of three houses in a family compound. We rented out two of the house which were basically in our back yard.   Several residents of the houses there reported strange sightings and unexplianable events taking place there.  Earlier tonight I had started a blog exclusively about that place.  About midway into it my keyboard locked up and while my computer did not become non-responsive, it would respond in a different ways than i asked it to.  The command keys of the keyboard did commands not requested and would not do as I requested.  The blog completely disappeared from my screen. That brought memories of that night in north Georgia at Emmanuel college working on the research paper and the source saying the devil will do all  in his power to stop one for seeing his ways. 

At some point in the future I may get back to that blog. If I do, it will be part 2 of the hauntings or maybe parts 1 and 2 but i will make that decision at another time

Good Night, God bless, and Happy Halloween

Halloween

Halloween began as Celtic holiday to celebrate the end of the harvest season.  October 31 was set as time to to ward off the evil spirits.   Halloween is also the eve of All Saints' Day on November 1.  In the Philippines people visit the graves of their ancestors for the holiday and celebrate with feasts and parties to pay respect to the spirits of the departed.  Historians disagree as to if the holiday stems from Pagan cultures or if it is an actual Christian celebration.  Trick or Treating has a history that dates back to the 17th centruyScottland where people would dress in costume and go house ot house singing and asking for food.

Growing up in rural north Georgia in the 1950s gave little opportunity for Trick or Treating, but there was an annual Halloween festival at the local elememtary school which was the center of social activities for the little Vanna community. Baked good were for sale.  A hot dog supper was avaialale for a fee.  There was a house of horrors providing adequate entertainment for the students and people of the community.  There was music and other entertainment. Proceeds from the event were used to fund projects for the Parent Teacher Association.

On one particular Halloween when i was about 9 years old, a group of older boys in the community came to our house Trick or Treating.  They were the only trick or treaters I encountered up until that time.   They asked if I wanted to go with them as they continued their Halloween fun.  My mom agreed. Taking an old sheet she cut holes for my eyes so I could dress as a ghost, and i was off for a night of adventure.  I only remenber a couple of houses that we visited.  At one place an elderly couple came to the door and had no clue what we were doing.  One of the boys explained the Trick or Treat process to them. They gave us an onion because they had no candy or teats to give out.  At another house, no one was home.  They had left the kitchen window open.  At my suggestion, we took handfulls of sand and dirt and threw it through the open window.  It was the home of  my mother's cousin.  Years later, I confessed my transgression to the homeowner. We all had a good laugh about it.  He owned the local Ford dealership and he was helping me to buy my first car at the time of my confession.

In 1958 we moved from Vanna community to the nearby town of Royston.  We were in an apartment complex so for the following years Halloween presented us with more than enough trick or treaters to make up for my earlier years.

When our sons were children I took the trick or treating every year, usually with one or more of their friends going along for the fun.  On one particular year when oldest son was past the acceptable age, my wife took our other son and his girl cousin trick or treating.  I stayed home to give out treats.  Just for the fun of it, I dressed in a dark robe with a hood that covered most of my face as well as my head.. I sat on a dimly lit porch with my bowl of candy treats.  I was a bit disappointed that very few kids would even come near me because my costume and the erie music playing had scared them away.  Even our niece was skeptical of coming on to the porch. 

During recent years a custom developed with my son's former inlaws.  We visit them each halloween for a chili dinner and take all the grandkids trick or treating.  Now most of that generation has outgrown the custom as well.

A few years ago a family freind was invited to attend a Halloween party at a local private club.  He made a big deal out of the fact that he was going.  Since we had very few friends in common, I was not invited, which was fine with me.  At the last minute I dressed as the grim reaper with a costume that totally covered my face.. Yes, I crashed that party and  had a great time. I met lots of folks but never opened my mouth to say anything to anyone. My total silence drove them absolutely crazy.  While I could see fine through the covering on my face, I had failed to realize that I would not be able to eat or drink.  That did present a bit of a problem when I was offered drinks. 

To avoid embarassment to innocent people,  I will forego telling more of my Halloween escapades including last year when my wife helped a close family (male) freind dress as a Japanese giesha girl for an event he was to attend.  His dress now serves as the cover on the seat of an antique chair that I restored. 

We are three days away from Halloween 2013.  As of now, we have no speical plans beyond visiting with friends for the annual chili dinner.  But I have three more days, and I'm relatively sure that some opportunity will present itself before then. 

Television and Before

Television is one of the loves of my life. It is not an addiction as it is with some people.  There have been times in my life that I would literally go for months without television and dont think I missed anything significant.

My first encounter with television was at the home of a friend and co-worker of my mom's when I was about seven years old.  Her friend had a son about my age, and one day after work we were invited over to their house.  While the two ladies gathered produce from the home garden, the son and I stayed inside and watched television.  The television has a small screen by today's standards.  It was basically square but with overly rounded corners.  Of course it was black and white and with only an antenea mounted atop the house; and with the closest television stations being about 80 miles away, the recpetion was far from today's high definition. We watched the Howdy Doody Show.  When we returned home I tried as best I could to relay the experience to my grandmother who was well into her eighties.  Until then our only electronic entertainment has been a small white Arvin AM radio.  Every night we would listen to music from Cincinatti or New Orleans.  On Saturday nights we would listen to the Grand Old Opra from the Nashville.  Days of radio listening were filled with the closest local radio station in Hartwell, GA which presented local news and hours of various types of music. Afternoons were filled with the radio version of soap operas.  I grew up with Pepper Young, a radio soap akin to today's "Days of our Lives".   I do not recall which of the distant radio stations presented a nightly series of comedy entertainment featuring the likes of "Our Miss Brooks" with Eve Arden and the Jack Benny Show with his lovable black chauffeur Rochester.  Who could ever forget the Amos and Andy show featuring the antics of the two black somewhat shady characters always out to beat the system.

In the mid 1950's my  mom,  my grandmother, and I would go to my Uncle Loyd's house to visit with him and my Aunt Minnie.  Minnie would prepare dinner for us usually and we would watch television for couple of hours.  It was here that I encountered probably my favorite of all time television shows, I Love Lucy. Even today, I watch reruns of that show that I have seen probably hundreds of times.  One of the highlights of my life was to actually ride past Lucille Ball's home in Beverly Hills many years later in 1983. We made the weekly trip to Uncle Loyd's to watch television in my mom's old 1938 Chevy which was about sixteen years old at that time.  The trip to Beverly Hills in 1983 was a bit more stylish with my sister-in-law in their relatively new Cadillac Fleetwood Braughm.  Some other nightly television shows we would watch at Uncle Loyd's house were  December Bride with Spring Byington, The Real McCoys, and the origional Dragnet.

In 1957 when I was about ten years old, we bought our first televsion set.  It was a big 21 inch Admiral Floor model.  The television repairman made regular trips to our house to keep it going.  My afternoons were spent watching Dick Clark and the American Bandstand,  You Bet your Life with Groucho Marx, and the Mickey Mouse Club.

It was 1970 that mom finally got a color tv.  By then I had left home and moved here in Easley.  The next forty years of television is a blur that can be rehashed on TV Land or any of many similar networks the feature the oldies.

Television has come a long way in the past 40 years. Cable service and Internet service gives us hundreds of possibilites of prorams to watch.  With today's flat screen television sporting events are better on tv than in person.  We can not only watch tv on our tv's but also on iPads and iPhones as well as hundreds of other smart phones and tablets.  In our three person household, we have 5 flat screen televisions, 3 iPhones,  an iPad, and 4 computers all of which can receive any one of thousands of broadcast possibilites.. Wow.. what a difference from one black and white set that misfunctioned as much as it worked right.

Not only has technology improved but the types of shows have evolved.  Censorship is not almost a thing of the past.  The subject of programs is as diverse as the universe.   I would be neglegent if I did not mention two recent shows.  A friend has been after me for months to watch Scandal. At his suggestion I went on Netflix today and watched 4 episodes from the first season.  By every stretch of the imagenation, it is one of the most controversal programs ever. That the main character and heroine of the show is as black female who is a professional high ranking person is something that would have been unacceptable 40 years ago.  Sex, violence, cultural topics, homosexuality, rape, nudity, politics, and other items which are openly a part of todays culture are dealt with in the same open manner that they are in real life in the 21st centruy.  The other program, American Horror Stroy this season deals with witches in a manner as violent and realistic or should I say unrealistic as the Salem witch hunts.

Yes, times have changed and will continue to change as well.  We are greatly blessed to live in a time where such wonders are as common as the sand on the beach.

God Bless, good night

Who is Marc Adams?

"What's in a name? that which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet"

             This quote from William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet makes my point better than any thing else that comes to mind.  What is a name?  A name is only a label we attach to something for the purose of identification.  Whether I go by the name Marc or Lynn or Charlie or Alex or whatever other name, I am still me.  Nothing about me changes when my label changes.
              Why Marc Adams?  Why not?  If I could have chosen my name, I would have preferred Marc over my real name.  Actually, I would have preferred almost anything to my middle name which my mom or my aunt Lucy or someone decided to pin on me as a label.  Adams is my mother's maiden name.  She was married to a Hall, but I only have met one of the members of the Hall family briefly back in 1958 at a car dealership.  He was my mother's brother-in-law.  He was warm and friendly and referred to himself as my uncle. That was my only contact with anyone from the Hall family.  I know absolutely nothing about my biological father's family other than a name.  I do know he was a prominent business man in a small North Carolina town.. Whoop de doo! That never helped me any, nor did it hurt me either.
                  Just over two years ago a cute little gray kitty showed up at our door.  Someone obviously had told him that he was supposed to look lost and pitiful so some poor snock would feed him. We did, and he is still with us. I named him "Junior".  Dont tell anyone, but I did that as an absteact way of naming him for someone with similar charactistics and similar lifestyle as this little lost kitty.  The name of Junior never caught on.  My grandson who was 5 at the time named hinm "Little Jon" after himself.  My wife had a name for him, but somewhere that name was lost in the confusion of other names.  I call him "cat" now as his lable.  My wife calls him "Little Jon" sometimes and other times, just "Kitty".  He definitely is a "daddy's boy".  He will sit on my keyboard as I type.  He sits in my lap to watch television. He comes to bed to lay on my feet in the early morning.  He is not stupid, so he knows to give my wife some of his attention, but it is sometimes misdirected as he hides behind furniture to jump out and bite her on the leg often bring blood.  He does not fully understand the concept that he is a cat and not a little boy.  He tries to talk to us. He reaches up to try to turn the doorknob when he wants to go inside or outside.  He has never needed a litter box. He just comes to get one of us to come open the door so he can go outside.   Sorry did not mean to get carried away with him, but only to say that his name is.......What is it?  Cat, Kitty, Little Jon, Junior, or whatever anyone wants to call him.. Poor kitty has no real label other than Cat.
           Frankly I have little use for names or labels. I understand that sometimes they are necessary for identificatrion, but that is it.  Labels only cause problems.  She is FAT.   He is STUPID.  I am an OLD MAN.  He is GAY.   She is HISPANIC or LATINIO.  He is CATOLIC.  She is a JEW. He is BLACK.   He is a DEMOCRAT.  I could possibly go for hours listing labels, but for what purpose?  Think of what labels like FAT or STUPID do to a person's self-concept.  Why do we always tend to look for the negative labels in refernce to people?
              Do not get all upset with me now becuse I am going to deviate from what I am preaching here to use an application of labels to make my point.  Somewhere near the beginning of this blogging process I want to give you one of my philosophies based on my value system.  I am as open and accepting of other people as anyone you will find.  I have friends from all age groups from all parts of the globe in all nationalities, colors, religions, sexes, sexual orientations, and as diverse as you would ever find for anyone.  But I confess I have zero toleration for those individuals whom I will define as judgmental narrow-minded hypocrital biggoted ignorant assholes. (I could have used the work jerks, but i think assholes is more accurate... sorry if that offends you... just get over it).
                 As one would expect of an old man like me, I have won various awards in the work place throughout the years. I have three college degrees under my belt.  Of all of these, one thing for which i am most proud and honored to have recieved is an award from Ford Motor Credit Company from which I retired for Diversity in the Workplace.  Yesterday my wife described me as flexible or versatile. My prefernce is that of being able to embrace the diversity of people who come in to my life.  This acceptance brings peace of mind which brings peace which brings happiness which leads to a better world for all of us.
                  So, who is Marc Adams?  Maybe now you know and understand him just a bit more than you did before reading this.
                    Good night, and God bless !!